


A Red Spah in the Blu Base

by infraredphaeton



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, M/M, Spah!verse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 08:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1462249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infraredphaeton/pseuds/infraredphaeton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Full Spah!verse, remastered & edited. Season 2 AU. That one where Dalton is a really geeky private school filled with total dorks, and almost all of them ship Klaine.<br/>In which Kurt and Blaine are sickeningly in love, Wes and David are also sickeningly in love but in a totally straight way, and there are a lot of shenanigans. Featuring: fifties diners, ducks, cunning plans, body glitter, numbered smiles, shenanigans, and the ginger boy version of Rachel Berry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Red Spah in the Blu Base

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, this is the Spah!verse in it's entirety, and a way for me to bid adieu to these dumbass boys. I'll be posting every chapter from livejournal, with a few new scenes edited in, some of the #canon drabbles from tumblr, and finish it off with a wrap up so I can finally close the book on this verse and all these boys. I've had a great time writing it, and I hope you had a great time reading it. Thanks to everyone who supported me in writing it, and all the people who sent me letters and emails and told me that they liked it.

The day after Kurt sneaked into Dalton Academy, Blaine spent breakfast singing the chorus to Hot N Cold under his breath, checking his iPhone every two seconds, and frantically finishing his Geography Internal Assessment.

“You waiting on a call?” Wes asked, setting down his own tray- pancakes, waffles, french toast and a half grapefruit- and nodding at Blaine’s reflexive swipe across the phone screen to see if there were any new texts.

“...Not really. Text.” Blaine shrugged, and wrote down some bullshit about the GDP of Guam.  
David nodded sagely from his place next to Wes, but the effect was ruined by the dribble of milk that had escaped his cocoa pops and was running down his chin.

“Who from?” Wes asked, “and you don’t mean GED, there. You mean GNP.” He nodded at Blaine’s paper.

“Thanks. And from Kurt.” Blaine quickly scribbled out the acronym, and looked at his phone.

“Kurt? Oh, Double Oh Failure.” Wes grinned, “How is he?”

“...I’m waiting for a text,” Blaine explained slowly, “that means I haven’t heard from him yet.”

“Well, while you’re waiting, you should eat your muesli, before it gets cold.” David said, grabbing Blaine’s phone.

“Muesli is cold, you idiot. Give me back my phone!” Blaine lunged over the table, but David ducked out of the way quickly.

“So, you really like him, then?” Wes observed, and Blaine sat down abruptly.

“I never said that.”

“No, but you have him saved as ‘Adorable Hot Competition’ in your contacts.” David read aloud, “Or at least, I assume so. The nice old lady who came from The Hipsters didn’t seem like your type.”

“Although she made fantastic brownies,” Wes remembered wistfully.

Blaine snatched back his phone, and stood up.

“I’m going to class.”

“Maybe you should text him first?” David suggested, and Wes nodded.

“I agree. But make sure he’s aware that if he breaks your heart, I will systematically break every bone in his body. You know I can.”

Wes knew Krav Maga.

“You know that’s right.” Wes and David fist bumped.

“Class.” Blaine repeated, picking up his book bag and his Geography assessment.

In the study break between periods three and four, Blaine thought about David’s suggestion. Sometimes, taking the first step was a good idea. And Kurt had seemed pretty down, and altogether not particularly confident, when they’d talked yesterday.

Blaine nodded to himself. He’d text first. And if Kurt didn’t reply, then, well, no harm done. At least Blaine would know enough to stop thinking about Kurt’s perfect hair, and his pretty blue-ish green-ish grey-ish eyes, and his pink lips, and the way those boots he’d worn had made his legs look particularly fantastic...

Blaine coughed and shifted in his seat, and fiddled around with his iPhone, in the hope that he’d find out that one night, in his sleep, he’d downloaded an app called ‘reassuring words for extremely attractive, bullied gay boys you are thinking of trying to date’.

No such luck, unfortunately.

“Have you texted him yet?” David asked, suddenly in Blaine’s personal space.

He dropped his phone.

“We’ll take that as a no,” Wes said, watching Blaine scramble around under the study carrel for his phone.

“God, Blaine, stop being so...” David turned to Wes in search of a fitting word, lifting his hands into clawing motions.

“Blaine, find your balls.” Wes said bluntly, and David lowered his hands, nodding, “And text your spy.”

“Spah.” David repeated, and Wes burst out laughing.

“Red Spah in the blue base!”

Mrs. Neog, the librarian, shushed them, and Wes looked vaguely chagrined.

“You guys play too many video games,” Blaine said, shaking his head.

“And you listen to too many Katy Perry songs. But do we complain?”

“Yes. Loudly and often,” Blaine said, “you heathens.”

“Oh, Blaine. You know we love Katy Perry.” David said, taking a seat on the desk. Wes leaned on the carrel’s wall, and Blaine sighed- they weren’t going anywhere soon.

“Oh yes. We do love Katy Perry.” Wes said, making a dirty gesture.

“Ew. Girl parts,” Blaine replied in a monotone, flicking through his apps again.

“Like your love of the Beatles isn’t fuelled by your burning lust for Paul McCartney, circa ’69?”

“Watch your tongue, boy,” Blaine said, shaking a finger at David, who grinned widely.

“So, have you texted him yet?” David asked again, and Blaine sighed.

“What do I say?” Blaine asked, and his best friends grinned.

“Something encouraging.” Wes suggested.

 “And reassuring.” David nodded.

“With some kind of secret message only you guys will understand.” 

“Like, gay language or something.” David grinned, to make sure Blaine knew it was a joke.

“But not like gay Yoda. Be clear.”

“But not too clear!”

“Yeah, be cryptic, but clear.” 

“And let him know that you would like to rip off those bondage shorts with your teeth, while serenading him with a suitable Katy Perry song.”

“Perhaps a variation on Thinking Of You?”

“Precisely.”

Blaine rolled his eyes at their satisfied expressions.

“So, the text should be encouraging, reassuring, contain a secret gay code, cryptic and clear, and show Kurt that I want to have sex with him?” He asked.

“Blaine!” Mrs. Neog frowned at him, “That’s an inappropriate conversation to have in the library!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Neog,” the three chorused.

“And David Hardison, if I hear that sort of language from you again, I’m sending you to the principal!”

“Sorry, Mrs. Neog,” David said, “It wasn’t meant to be mean.”

“Words can hurt, David. You boys be good now,” Mrs Neog smiled, and she went back to stacking books. David pulled a face, and Wes patted him on the head.

"Yeah, David, stop hurting my feelings," Blaine said, crossing his arms and staring down at his phone.

"Aw, boo," Wes slid into his chair on one side, as David patted the top layer of gel on Blaine's head, "you are a charming, beautiful flower of a man, and anyone would be glad to date you. You're too good for Earthly humans, dude."

"Maybe you should date an alien."

"A hot alien," Wes agreed, as David wiped hair product off his hand and onto the back of Blaine's blazer.

"I don't want to date a hot alien," Blaine said, propping his chin on one hand, "I want to date Kurt."

"Well, unless he's really, really dumb, he'll want to date you too," Wes said sensibly, "Everyone wants to date you, Blaine. You're a true gentleman. I would date you. Would you date him, David?"

"I would date him so hard," David agreed, nodding solemnly.

"We would date you so good," Wes said, "and respect you in the morning."

Blaine smiled a little, leaning against Wes, "I wouldn't date either of you, just so you know."

"He's too good for us, Davey," Wes said, shaking his head sadly, and David sniffled.

"My heart is broken, Wes. The only thing that reassures me is the fact that I'm not actually gay and therefore us dating wouldn't have worked out, probably."

"Probably," Wes agreed, and Blaine straightened his lapels, picking up his phone.

“Anyway. You think all that...stuff should go into this text?”

They nodded.

“Well, it’s not like that’ll be hard!” Blaine rolled his eyes again.

“You have until the end of lunch to come up with something, Blaine. Don’t be down on yourself.” Wes patted him on the shoulder and stood up, falling into step with David as they headed for the door.

“No pressure, then.”

His apps do bring him the solution. Not quite as neatly as Blaine had hoped, but still. While in English, looking for a quotation involving the word ‘dreams’ to open his World Literature 1 assignment, he comes across the perfect solution. Perhaps the quote doesn’t contain the ‘would like to rip off your fantastic shorts with my teeth’ undertone, but it’s all uplifting and reassuring, and all that jazz.

'Courage is the first step to achieving your dreams’. After that, Blaine decided, he’d put something about how Kurt was able to achieve all his dreams, and how Blaine was totally here for him, and possibly ask him out for coffee.

Blaine quickly opened a new SMS, and began to type the text in.

He accidentally hit send after the first word.

Shit.

Blaine went back to his essay, hoping against hope that perhaps the text didn’t send properly.  
David leaned over and asked, as Wes wasn’t there to do it, “Have you texted him yet?”  
Blaine could feel the colour draining from his face as he nodded.

“Dude! Yes! What did you say?”

Blaine had to lick his lips to get enough moisture in his mouth to say anything.

“Courage.”

David waited for a few seconds. But Blaine didn’t have anything else to add.

“That’s all? Just...courage?”

“Yeah.”

“Dude.”

Blaine tensed, waiting for a diatribe about how that would get him nowhere on his quest to get inside Kurt’s bondage shorts.

“That’s perfect! How did you come up with that?” David smiled at him, and Blaine smiled weakly in return.

“I just...thought about what I wanted to hear. When I was in his situation.”

David’s smile weakened slightly, and he leaned over, putting one strong hand on Blaine’s shoulder.

“But that is never going to happen to you again. You hear? You have us now. And if anyone, anyone ever gives you any trouble about anything...I don’t care if it’s an eight year old girl, I will unleash the fury of Wes upon that eight year old girl, and I’ll ensure that her elbows are thoroughly broken.”

Blaine couldn’t help but smile at that.

“You are pretty awesome.” Blaine allowed, and David grinned.

“We’re totally awesome.”

 

Kurt texted back just as they were leaving class, with a smiley face and a thank you. Blaine smiled, and Wes grinned at him as he joined up with them to walk to the choir room. “So? Did you text him?”

“He did. And he was surprisingly capable.” David replied, “And he’s just gotten a reply, but I haven’t seen it yet.”

“He is right here,” Blaine said, putting down his book bag next to his guitar, still smiling.

“And is he going to tell us what Double Oh Endearing wrote?”

“I thought he was Double Oh Failure?” David asked.

“It felt mean. And he was very endearing.”

“Very,” David agreed, “Now, Blaine, spill. Before the rest of The Warblers arrive, and we have an argument about what we sing next and Jim gropes someone to turn them to his side and Lee punches them in the face because Jim touched them instead of him and then Mr. Matthews gives us all detention. Again.”

"We really should do something about that. All that rage cannot be healthy," Wes said thoughtfully, and David nodded.

“He said thanks. And he put in a smiley face.”

“What kind?”

“...Just, like, a normal smiley face. Colon, bracket. Smiley face.”

“No little o nose?” Wes asked.

“...No. Why? Does that matter?”

“...No.” Wes said, “How did he spell thanks? Was it just t h x, or thanks, or what?”

“Uh, thank you. All lower case. And then he signed it with a squiggle and a K.”

“A squiggle?” David frowned.

Blaine showed them the text.

“That’s a tilde, and you know it.”

“Whatever.” Blaine dismissed, now looking for meaning in every pixel in the message. Freaking stupid friends.

“So.” David said, “Have you texted him back?”

“Not yet?” Blaine appealed to Wes.

“Why are you asking me?” Wes said, “He’s not my imaginary boyfriend.”

“You all suck. So much.” Blaine said, but he was already trying to think of cryptic encouragements he could text Kurt at random times through out the day.

 

By the time the rest of the Warblers were in the choir room, Blaine had a reasonable list of encouragements, and had given it over to Wes and David to double check that he hadn’t written anything particularly stupid.

He regretted the move within seconds.

“Hang in there? What are you, a motivational poster?”

“Is this the chorus to Firework? Don’t you think it’s a little early in the relationship to be quoting Katy Perry?”

“Pride? You sound like you wish you’re a rapper!” David chuckled, and Wes tapped his hand against his chest twice, and barked:

“Represent!”

“You are hilarious,” Blaine said, watching everybody settle around the room in various sprawls and perches.

“Maybe you should just stick to ‘courage’,” Wes advised, passing back the list.

“Isn’t that a little repetitive?”

“Repetitive can be good,” David said, nodding sagely, and Blaine nodded.

Their choir leader, Mr. Matthews, clapped his hands to draw their attention.

“Alright, boys! Everybody paying attention? Blaine, phone away, please.”

Blaine nodded and put the phone away, but not before sending off another ‘courage’.

Hopefully it would work just as well the second time.

“I heard that the Teenage Dreams show you guys did in the commons went really well, so good job!” Mr. Matthews grinned widely, giving a thumbs up, “But, I also heard that we had a spy.”

“Double Oh Endearing!” Wes called out, punching the air.

“He was adorable,” Harry agreed, “he was totally into...” he pointedly grinned at Blaine, “...the performance. And he applauded really loudly.”

“Double Oh Adorable totally has our backs!” Wes cheered.

“Well,” Mr. Matthews smiled, “be that as it may, we still can’t use Teenage Dream at sectionals anymore.”

There was a chorus of unhappiness from the group.

"What if we kidnap double oh adorable and make him join the Warblers?" David suggested.

"Sorry, guys." Mr. Matthews said, shaking his head, "Kidnapping is illegal. We need a new song."

“Oh, come on. LIke that kid would be asshole-ish, excuse my language, Mr. Matthews, to tell on us. He was kind of dancing, even. And that kind of smile is usually post coital, not post listening to rival acapella high school choir perform pop music.” Lee said, rolling his eyes. Jim, who was reclined in his lap, generously allowing Lee to give him a scalp massage, nodded in agreement.

“Lee Dwyre! Be respectful!” Mr. Matthews frowned, and Lee muttered something angry and definitely disrespectful under his breath, “Although that does seem to match what I saw. But that doesn’t matter! We need to keep coming up with songs that are just as good! Better! Way better! Guys, that was good, I’m not denying that. It was better than our cover of Rule The World, even. But McKinley- despite their lack of espionage skills- is amazing. We’ve all seen the tape from Regionals.”

Blaine nodded. He’d rewatched it last night, and the camera had barely focussed on Kurt at all. It was all on their two soloists, the cute brunet and the girl.

...Which was totally understandable, of course. Soloists were important.

“So, boys. Suggestions? What should we try next?”

Blaine stood up.

“Yes, Blaine?”

“I suggest we cover Firework, by Katy Perry.”

Wes and David chorused along on the ‘Katy Perry’, and the rest of Warblers laughed.

“It’s a good song!” Blaine growled.

“Well, we’ve already got one Katy Perry song down- Hot N Cold, and Teenage Dream in reserve. So maybe a different artist?” Mr. Matthews said kindly.

Blaine shrugged and sat down.  
“Maybe something really classic?” Harry suggested, pulling at his too long black hair, “Like, The Beatles, or The Who, or something?”

“Good! Let’s switch up the genres! The Who has some classical elements to it, which means it’ll be awesome a cappella. Harry, you go find some stuff on youtube, and grab some guys to go start picking it apart for the backing. Blaine, you put away your phone, and go with them to start working on the solo.” Mr. Matthews nodded at Blaine’s iPhone, which had somehow reappeared in his hand.

Blaine smiled endearingly, and Mr. Matthews rolled his eyes.

“Go. And get rid of the phone, before I have to take it away.”

“Yes sir.”

“Aw, Mr. Matthews, that’s not fair,” Wes said, “he’s texting his spy.”

“SPAH IN THE BLUE BASE!” David shouted, and about half of the rest of group burst out laughing.

“You are not as funny as you think you are.” Blaine said, and stood up stiffly, putting his phone in his pocket.

“No, you’re right,” David sighed, “I’m funnier.”

“Boys! Calm down! Now, while Blaine, Harry, and you six are off looking at the new piece, I want the rest of you down here warming up for Rule The World.” Mr. Matthews said sternly, and the group split up.

 

Blaine, naturally, did not put his phone away. Kurt texted back, again with a thank you, but added a question about how Blaine was doing, too. Blaine looked up from his phone to where Harry was dissecting David Bowie’s Life On Mars into the different pieces they’d need to create the backing vocals. Jim and Liam were competing to see who could burp furthest into the alphabet. Melvin was on the phone with his girlfriend, making dopey ‘No, I love you more’ comments. Pratik was the only person actually practicing his part, running over the lowest ‘dumph, dumph’ part with single minded dedication.

It’s not that bad. Just at practice, sorting out a new song. u? Blain typed quickly, and hurriedly signed it with a --Blaine.

Prac jst finished. Cool mashup. not on front vocls tho. next time 4 sure. ~K

Good performance anyway?--Blaine

I’m insulted by the implication. ~K

Blaine smiled.

“Ooh, is it the ineffective yet adorable spy?” Jim broke away from his argument with Liam to read over Blaine’s shoulder.

“That’s none of your business until you have the hi-hat part down,” Blaine said, typing his reply. Jim pouted, craning over his shoulder to see Blaine's phone. As expected, when he brought up Jim’s musical responsibilities, Pratik pulled the other teenager away to go over his part. As Pratik was only five foot three, and Jim was a few inches over six feet, it wasn't a particularly successful drag.

“Can we keep him?” Jim asked plaintively, as Pratik, and now Harry, who had been recruited by Pratik's sad eyes, dragged him away.  
Blaine ignored him and turned back to his phone.

What happened to your spelling? --Blaine

I have both hands free now. ~K

...That was flirting, right? That was definitely flirting.  
Before Blaine could respond, Kurt sent another message.

Sorry, that sounded wrong. I was helping my bff carry her books. ~K

Damn.

No problem. I have to go. Remember, courage.--Blaine  
With that, Blaine tucked his phone into his pocket, just as Mr. Matthews called them back into the room.

“So?” David asked, as they took their seats in the common room.

“So what?” Blaine asked, reflexively checking his phone.

“You are adorable when you’re crushing on someone.” Wes said meditatively, propping his chin on one hand.

“I am not crushing on Kurt!” Blaine squawked, and Wes and David looked at each other.

“Right.”

“This is a perfectly average, even boring reaction to meeting a spy-”

“A SPAH!” David shouted, crushing his empty can of Amp between his hands.

“Thank you, David, and serenading them. And then getting their number.” Wes said airily. “Don’t forget agonizing over what to text them.”

“True.” Wes grinned.

“Alright. Maybe a little. But not a crush. I just, like him. Maybe.” Blaine said, crossing his legs, “Don’t you guys have things to do?”

“Nope.”

“My schedule is shockingly free. Possibly because my girlfriend is currently in Alaska.” David told him.

“He’s right. At the moment, we are living vicariously through you.” Wes affirmed.

“Even though it is a gay life that you’re living vicariously through?” Blaine asked, and Wes barked out a laugh, draping himself over David.

“We’re not fussy,” David shrugged, “but if you could hurry up and get to the good bits, that’d be great.”

Blaine rolled his eyes.

And then his phone rang.

“Who is it?” David asked curiously, and Blaine shrugged, checking the screen.

“Oh. Um. I have to take this. Outside. Far away from both of you.” Blaine said, and dived for the exit onto the balcony.

David looked at Wes.

“Bet you ten that the screen will say ‘Adorable Hot Competition’.”

“No bet.” Wes shook his head.

Blaine hit accept, and lifted the phone to his ear, running a hand through his hair.

Think smooth. Charismatic. Experienced.

Think mentor. Thirties film star. Charming. Assured.

Blaine carefully ignored David’s voice in his head suggesting ‘Gay Yoda’.

“Hey, Kurt. What’s up?”

That sounded pretty smooth.

“Uh. Hi, Blaine. I...I talked to that guy.”

Blaine straightened up from where he had been leaning on the door.

“The bully?”

“Yeah. And...It’s weird.” Kurt’s voice was small, almost nervous. It wasn’t a good sound. Kurt didn’t seem like a naturally nervous person.

Nervous people didn’t usually wear knee high bitch boots and bondage shorts.

Well, not in Blaine’s experience, anyway.

“What happened?” Blaine asked, projecting confidence, and charisma.

Mmmm. Much experience in the ways of gay, I have.

“He....He was pushing me around. Like usual.”

That should not be usual, Blaine thought fiercely, but stayed quiet, allowing Kurt to finish his story.  
It took a while, and by the end, Blaine was barely restraining himself from driving down to Lima and beating up this ‘Karofsky’ guy.

“So, what do you think I should do?” Kurt asked.

Blaine took a deep breath.

“Well, Kurt, I think you have a couple of options, here. You can ignore it. And he’ll probably ignore it, and go back to bullying you. Except it’ll be worse, because he’ll convince himself it was a fluke, that it was your fault, that you’re trying to turn him gay.”

“Probably.” Kurt agreed.

“Or...And this one’s gonna be harder. You can confront him.”

“Because that went so well the first time.” Kurt said bitterly, and Blaine forced a laugh.

Smooth. Charming. Experienced.

“I wasn’t quite imagining that kind of confrontation. Although asking your over protective friends to beat him up may be an option, depending.”

“I do know some rather over protective people.”

“Something to keep in mind. But Kurt, violence doesn’t solve anything,” Blaine preached, looking out of the slate grey sky and soggy asphalt of the car park in front of him. “This guy’s probably feeling horrible right now.” 

“Actually, I don’t think he even has the capability to feel. It was removed at football camp.”

Blaine smiled, but kept his voice even, soothing, “He’s alone, Kurt. His homophobia stems from an inability to accept himself. Probably because of his family’s own homophobia. Not everybody is blessed with accepting parents and siblings.”

“...So?”

“So, you know how difficult it is to realize you’re not just like everybody else. How it can be hard when you’re just finding your feet in this whole new world.”

Goddamn, Blaine thought, I am rocking this advice thing. I should check out guidance counselor as a career option.

“...I don’t know if I can do that. Go up to him and just go ‘Hey, I accept you, you big homophobic creep.’ Because I don’t.” Kurt replied, and there was a scratch on the line, as though he shifted the phone.

“Kurt,” Blaine injected a hint of disapproval into his voice, “this is important. I’ll come down. I’ll be there, we can do it together.”

“What?”

The amount of shock in Kurt’s voice made Blaine backpedal frantically.

“I just thought, since you said you didn’t want to do it on your own, I could come and be a...supportive shoulder to lean on. I have a free day tomorrow. If you don’t want me to...” Blaine trailed off.

“No! I mean, yes. It would be great to have you here. Do you know where McKinley is?” Kurt asked, and Blaine grinned widely.

“I’ve seen it from time to time. I’ll be there at, say, eleven?”

“Sounds good.”

Blain felt daring, “It’s a date. Courage, Kurt.”

He hung up, and swaggered back into the common room, still smiling.

“Ooh. Double Oh Adorable must give good phone sex.” David said, looking up from his laptop.

“No, David. I think our little boy finally has a date.” Wes said wisely, looking Blaine up and down.

“They grow up so quickly.”

“I violently dislike you both,” Blaine repeated, adding, quite politely in his opinion, “Good night.”

“...Blaine, it’s six P.M.”

“...I am going to do my homework in the dorm, okay? Far away from you. Now, as I said: Goodnight.”

“Night, Blaine.” They chorused, “Dream dreams of Mr. Spy in bondage shorts.”

“I hope both your girlfriends are marooned on a desert island, and never return.” Blaine announced, picked up his bag, and swept out of the room.

“That was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“He can’t help it. He’s naturally dramatic. He has supplements to keep him in check, but he never takes them.” Wes said, nodding wisely. David smiled, and they fist bumped.

“I can still hear you!” Blaine called from the hallway.

“Halo?” Wes suggested, as their usual source of entertainment had disappeared for the night.

“You read my mind, Wes.”

 

The next day, Blaine spent breakfast singing the chorus of Firework to himself while he debated the merits of his list of deep, cryptic-yet-clear-and-also-sexy messages. David sat down opposite him, carrying only a yoghurt and an apple.

“So? Have you texted him yet?”

“No. But I’ll be seeing him soon, so there’s no point,” Blaine replied, before looking up and across the table, and frowning.

“Where’s Wes?”

“He has early morning practice, remember?” David looked a little sad, staring at the space at the breakfast table where Wes usually sat.

“...I have a lot on my mind,” Blaine said defensively.

“Well, good luck with double oh adorable. Let us know how it goes.” David said.

“Us? What, are you using the royal we?” Blaine snorted, standing up.

David looked sad, “I keep forgetting Wes isn’t here.”

“If I hadn’t met Miranda and Emika, I would think you guys were gay. Seriously.”

“We’re heterosexual life partners!” David proclaimed, “And if I hadn’t seen you checking out Kurt’s ass earlier, your Gears of War skills would lead me to believe you were straight. As we seem to be working on gender normative beliefs this morning.”

“Okay, relax,” Blaine rolled his eyes, “say hi to Wes for me. I’ll call you on the way back.”

“Damn straight.” David nodded, “And don’t text him the chorus to Firework. Stick to the effective text.”

“Courage? Again?”

“Again.”

“Isn’t that a little silly?” Blaine asked, already typing the message.

“It works, don’t knock it. Now go. Conduct the grand love affair of Blaine and Kurt. And remember, if they try anything, Wes will Krav Maga the shit out of that place.” David waved his hand, and Blaine nodded.

“Right. I’ll call you later.”

“I shall wait with baited breath. Go!”

Blaine went.

David held out a fist for Wes to bump, then looked at the empty place where his best friend should have been, and sighed.  
Pratik leaned over from where he, Harry, Jim and Lee were sitting together and bumped David's fist.

"Thanks, Pratik...but it's just not the same when it's not Wes."

Pratik nodded solemnly and went back to his breakfast.

 

So, despite Blaine’s constant rehearsals of exactly how he would confront Kurt’s nemesis, it didn’t go that well.

Instead, he ended up sitting next to Kurt on cold, wet concrete steps, feeling damp seep through his uniform slacks.

“Come on. I’ll buy you lunch.” Blaine ended up suggesting, and Kurt nodded miserably.

Kurt had never been kissed. So. Yeah. That was... unexpected. Since when do guys like Kurt not have people asking them out?

Then again, Lima was in the middle of rural Ohio.

Blaine dismissed it, and patted Kurt on the shoulder.

“So, where are we going for lunch?” he asked, and Kurt frowned.

“I figured the cafeteria,” Kurt said, hitching his bag up.

“What kind of cheapskate do you think I am?” Blaine smiled, seriously hoping that it didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

“The cafeteria is fine, really.” Kurt demurred, but Blaine put his hands in his pockets and stopped following him.

“Not really. Just one second.” Blaine said, and Kurt blinked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, as Blaine walked over to a group of teenagers their age, huddled around a locker.

They were a mismatched group- an asian girl in gothic clothes, a darker girl in eye injuring bright colours, a guy in a wheelchair who was dressed as though he’d never seen the far side of the fifties, and an asian jock with a dorky smile.

“Hi.” Blaine said, giving them charming grin number six- you don’t know me yet, but you will soon love me.

“Can we help you?” asked the dark girl, looking past him at Kurt.

Blaine turned to follow her gaze, and saw the tail end of Kurt’s ‘kill the conversation’ gesture. He nodded at Kurt, who pursed his lips and turned red, and turned back to the group.

“Where’s the best place to get lunch in this town?”

“Breadsticks,” said the goth, nodding emphatically.

“Gai-Lang does really good dim sum,” said the asian jock, and the goth glared at him with an expression that was scarily similar to Kurt’s.

“Some people like to go out for lunch and not have dim sum, Mike!”

“There’s nothing wrong with dim sum!” The jock, Mike, denied.

“So, Breadsticks or... Gai-Lang?” Blaine asked.

“Breadsticks,” the black girl agreed, and the kid in the wheelchair nodded.

“Definitely breadsticks. Especially if you’re taking Kurt out.”

“Artie!” Kurt appeared at Blaine’s shoulder as though he’d teleported.

“Oh, hey Kurt.” Artie said blandly, “I’m going to go find Puck. We have maths next. Nice to meet you.”

With that, he rolled away.

“Take him to Breadsticks.”

“Mercedes!”

“You deserve it, boy.” Mercedes said darkly, staring at the football field. She then smiled brightly and turned to the other two teenagers, “And now, Tina, Mike, we leave. So they can have their moment.”

“I’m just saying, Tina, that people can enjoy asian food!”

“Not all the time! Some times, Mike, they want to go somewhere that doesn’t sell parts of animals that are usually only found in dissection trays!”

“So,” Blaine turned to Kurt, after waving goodbye to the group, “Breadsticks is the place to go, I hear.”

“Jesus, I should just die now and save myself the embarrassment.” Kurt said, putting his face in his hands.

“I didn’t think I was that bad,” Blaine said, still smiling.

“No, see, those guys? They’re in my glee club. And when I see them next, they are going to interrogate me about why I’m talking with the enemy.”

“The enemy?” Blaine looked down at his uniform, “Should I have come in mufti?”

“Mufti?”

“Not uniform. Sorry, it’s what we call it at Dalton.” Blaine shrugged, and they started walking towards the exit.

“Mufti,” Kurt said again, as if testing the word, “Well, ideally, yes. We had a bad experience with the male lead from Vocal Adrenaline last year.”

“Vocal Adrenaline is a group of cowardly robots who feel no joy and cannot recognize musical talent when they see it.” Blaine proclaimed.

“While I agree with you,” Kurt frowned, “what makes you think that?”

Blaine did not mention that the male lead had said that Katy Perry was a second rate hack, worse than Ke$ha.

“...Well. I’ve seen their tape at regionals last year. They have all the emotion of an android. A bad one. Not like R2 D2.” Blaine decided on.

“...And did you see what they were wearing?”

Blaine smiled, and beeped his car open.

“I wasn’t paying a lot of attention. But feel free to enlighten me.” Blaine said, opening the passenger side door for Kurt.

“...Is that a Lamborghini?” Kurt blinked.

 

Breadsticks was a nice restaurant, not large, but not a hole in the wall either. About a dozen booths, and few more free standing tables, separated into reserved and walk-ins. When Kurt and Blaine walked in, Kurt still blinking rapidly, they were ushered into a small booth, and presented with menus.

“Are you alright?”

“...Yeah? I think so. You have heard of speed limits, right?”

“Speed what?” Blaine grinned, and put down the menu, “So, what’s good here?”

“I... Uh, I don’t really know. I don’t come here that often.” Kurt shrugged, but Blaine could see something hurting under the facade.

“Why not?”

“It’s more of a date night restaurant,” Kurt said reluctantly, reading the menu with far too much concentration.

Blaine smiled at him, and leaned across the table a little bit, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

That wasn’t too flirty, was it?

Kurt blushed a rather charming shade of red, and smiled nervously.

Adorable. Blaine had his phone up and took a picture before Kurt could react.

“What? Hey! Why did you do that?” Kurt reached over to grab Blaine’s phone, but he tucked it into his pocket before the other boy could get close enough.

“Wes and David want to see you. As I forbid them from escorting me to McKinley, I had to promise pictures.” Blaine lied. Although it was true that Wes had offered to come, and as David had so charmingly put it, ‘Krav Maga the shit out of those bullies’.

Unlike Dalton, McKinley didn’t have school photos up on their site- not even club photos, like the Warblers- and, uh, Blaine kind of wanted a picture of Kurt.

Not like that.

Not for anything creepy!

Just, to have.

And Wes and David would want to see Kurt, too, so, really, it wasn’t that big a lie.

“Lasagne looks good,” Blaine diverted, and Kurt smiled.

“I’ll get cannelloni, I think.”

Blaine’s phone alerted him to an incoming text.

Have you kissed him yet?-D

Don’t quote Katy Perry! For the sake of our vicarious love lives! ((WES

HATE YOU ALL --Blaine

“Hey, Kurt?” Blaine said, looking up from his phone.

“Hmm?” Kurt made an inquiring sound around his glass of diet coke.

“Smile!” Blaine took another photo.

Now, if Blaine could just figure out a way to keep that kind of smile on Kurt’s face all the time.

“I had a nice time. Thanks, Blaine.” Kurt said, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. They were sitting in the Lamborghini, just outside McKinley’s lot, and Kurt was carrying a box with the half of his cannelloni that he didn’t finish at Breadsticks, and another with half a serve of tiramisu in it.

“So did I, Kurt.” Blaine smiled at him, “You have your top secret mash-up today, right?”

Kurt nodded.

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.”

They sat in silence for a minute.

“I’d better go.”

“...Yeah.” Blaine nodded, and Kurt undid his seat belt and got out of the car, “Wait!”

Kurt stopped, still bent over to retrieve his bag.

“Hmm?”

“Would you...like to make this a standing arrangement?”

“The lunch, or the confrontation of homophobic bullies?” Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The lunch. Although the confrontation is something that needs to be done, it’s not something I’d be interested in doing once a week.”

Blaine added a rakish grin, to try and boost his chances.

Kurt reddened again. It was kind of cute, how he kept blushing.

“...I’d really like that.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon.” Blaine grinned, more truthfully this time, and snapped another picture of Kurt with his phone.

“Someday, I will get access to your phone, and delete all the photos you took today.” Kurt said, picking up his bag and take out boxes.

“That day will be a very sad one,” Blaine said, “good luck with your performance!”

“Luck is for those who don’t have skill,” Kurt sniffed, “But thanks.”

 

Blaine sang Teenage Dream all the way back to Dalton.


End file.
